


Combat Stilettos

by DollyPop



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Banter, Daddy Stein, F/M, Fluff, Foot rubs, Height Differences, Poor Footwear Choices, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 13:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4061188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollyPop/pseuds/DollyPop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being short, pregnant, and in a relationship with your freakishly tall, giraffe of a boyfriend didn’t add up to the most comfortable of footwear options.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Combat Stilettos

“Marie, I say this as a doctor: It is imprudent and ridiculous for you to continue wearing those this far into your pregnancy.”

The woman in question huffed, folding her arms over her puffy belly. “You’re my boyfriend, not my father. You can’t tell me what to wear.”

Stein was ready to pull his hair out. 

Again. 

As if the madness hadn’t left him with enough small bald spots to grimace about, Marie was choosing to be stubborn. 

“Wearing heels while your body is healthy for continuous periods of time is detrimental to your ankles as is. When you are pregnant and carrying extra weight in the form of a child, even more so. My professional recommendation is to pitch them into a river.”

“Well, my professional recommendation is that you need to hush,” Marie replied, loosing a sigh of relief when she settled onto her couch. Almost immediately afterward, she pulled her shoes off and set them down on the floor. 

Stein, instinctively, plopped down next to her in time for her to swing her legs over and onto his lap. He scowled, itching for a cigarette. Marie refused to wear proper maternity clothing until she was halfway into her second trimester and that was a fight and a half in of itself. She thought she was too young for mom jeans. She was, however, certainly pregnant enough for them. 

“Marie.”

“Stein.”

“Your ankles are swollen.”

“That happens when you’re pregnant.”

“And it will happen at a less accelerated frequency if you simply wear flat shoes with proper arch support.”

He could practically smell the fight brewing. 

“Stein, I told you I wasn’t going to give up my heels.”

He grumbled. “And why not, Marie?”

“Is it going to put the baby in danger?” she pitched to him, looking as intimidating as she could. 

Which was to say: not at all. 

“Likely not, but it causes you discomfort-“

“So there’s no real reason to remove them. They caused me discomfort before getting pregnant.”

“Marie, I fail to understand what your obsession with them is.”

“I’ve worn heels since I was twelve! I can handle myself. I don’t like being babied.”

“This is not babying. This is a matter of logic.”

“I like them. That’s enough for me to wear them.”

“Not when you limp about and demand I rub your swollen feet when we get home.”

As though to punctuate his point, she wiggled her toes and he pointedly looked at her feet in his lap. She puffed up. 

“Has there ever been a case where someone has died from wearing heels?” 

“No-“

“And is there likely to be one in the near future?”

“Marie-“

“Yes or no, Franken.”

“Not necessaril-“

“So I see no logical reason for me to cease wearing them.”

“For all my faith in the scientific community, they have been wrong before,” he began, glaring even as he rubbed his pregnant girlfriend’s feet. “And, forgive me, but I don’t want you to be the anomaly in heel-related fatalities, no matter how fascinating it would be in theory.”

Marie pouted. “Stein, can’t you leave it well enough alone?”

“You complain as soon as we leave the house.”

“There are usually chairs around.”

“You’re well into your last trimester, Marie. The pain can’t be justified by simple fondness.”

“The pain I went through for you is justified by it.”

Stein sighed, wanting to pinch the bridge of his nose. He would do so, were his hands not occupied. 

“What I need is clarification on is why you are so fond of your impractical footwear.”

Marie paused, leaning back. Her cheeks colored. “You’d find it stupid.”

“Now I especially need to know.”

Marie looked around, but she knew that Stein was focusing intently on her soul. He had ways of making her talk, too. She could practically see his hand going for her ribs. The damn tickler. “Don’t even think about it,” she tried to warn. 

She saw his fingers twitch. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Try it and this vagina’s closed for business.”

“It would affect you equally if not more so than it would affect me.”

He was right, too, damn him. She’d been having a freakishly horny pregnancy. She sighed. “Don’t laugh?”

“Promises of any nature cannot be fulfilled at this time. Even if I did, they are not legally binding and thus useless.”

“Real reassuring.”

“I try my damndest,” he replied, smirking. 

“Well. . .I’m not exactly the tallest woman around.”

“I came to that conclusion a while ago, yes.”

“Stop it! And. . .well, you’re rather tall.” She waited for him to make another sarcastic comment. When none came, she tucked her face closer to her swollen breasts, as though to hide. “And I don’t want to be mistaken for a child around you.”

Stein rolled his eyes. “Because all children have the figure you do.”

“I dunno. Push-up bras do wonders.”

“Marie, you’re being ridiculous.”

“I know!” she exclaimed, almost motorboating herself with how she was trying to hide her face. “But they make me feel better.”

“Does this have something to do with that time at the grocery store when someone asked if you were my daughter?”

“Maybe?”

“Marie, it’s because I have silver hair.”

“You don’t look old,” she reassured, struggling to sit up as to pat his hair but giving up halfway. “You look nice, actually.”

“While I appreciate the comment, the woman was approximately three-hundred and seven years old. She likely went simply on the most discernible features.”

“Which was how tall you were and how short I was. No need to sugar-coat it.”

Stein rolled his eyes. “I cannot understand why it affects you so strongly. Many women wish to be mistaken as younger.”

“Yes, but not by means of strangers assuming their boyfriend is their dad!”

“Well, you did call me that that one time-“

“Just stop?” she requested, trying to hide again. Stein continued massaging her feet and shook his head. 

“I’m going to throw the shoes out.”

“Try it and I’ll murder you. I know where you sleep.”

“Yes, next to you. I presume you’d miss me. I’ve been told toys aren’t the same.”

“That was under doctor-patient confidentiality!”

“I doubt the rules apply here.”

Marie grumbled, resenting the fact that, were she to want to move, Stein would have to help her anyway. She left her feet where they were.

“And anyway, they make it easier to kiss you.”

It was a bargaining chip. She knew he liked kissing. He looked over at her, gently pushing her feet away and helping her sit up, only for Marie to lean against him. 

“I’ll stoop.”

“You’re overprotective. I can handle myself. I’ve fought in heels most of my life.”

He looked at her dryly. “They will be removed come morning. The shelves are high here.”

“I can always get a chair.”

“You waddle when you walk. It wouldn’t be worth it for you.”

“Ugh!” she said, bumping her boyfriend with her shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

“No,” he responded, a grin beginning to form. “I’m Franken.”

“You’re such a damn Dad and the baby isn’t even born, yet.”

“I live here, thus, I am here all night.”

“You’re a dork.”

He looked at her expectantly. She ignored him and instead glanced down at her belly. “Hear that, baby? Your dad’s a dork.”

Stein snorted. “Don’t listen to her, Junior. Your mother is simply irritable due to her fluctuating hormones.”

Marie chose to ignore him once again and curled in a bit farther into herself. She took short glances at Stein and cupped her hands around her mouth, as though she were whispering a great secret. 

“Don’t tell him, but I like that he’s a dork.”

“Who’s the dork, now?” Stein asked. 

Marie looked at him, smiling widely. “Still you.”

Stein was questioning whether his eyes would remain permanently rolled into the back of his head. “Will you dispose of your infernal death traps, Marie?”

“Yeah, yeah. But you still have to carry me places.”

He took a peek down at her feet and kicked the shoes she threw on the floor away. “I accept your conditions.”

“Great! Now get me some paper so it can become legally binding.”

Stein hunched down so she could kiss him on the cheek, accepting her affections. He supposed that would be a clause as well, and so he presumed it would be intelligent of him to get accustomed to stooping to her height level when she wanted to bestow her adoration. 

“I’ve come to the conclusion that maybe you’ve lived with me for too extensive of a time.”

“Just kiss me, dork.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tired of me yet?


End file.
